


Hunger

by Sonnefaux



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonnefaux/pseuds/Sonnefaux
Summary: Sooner or later God'll cut him down.





	

Erik sees dreams, in which he is a boy in a concentration camp, where pain and fear reign, where everything that has been long time forgotten comes back. Or has it ever even been forgotten? How can you forget the pain that has settled beneath your skin, the pain that cannot be scratched out or washed off no matter how much you try? It will always be with you, deep in the darkest corners of your mind, chasing you, following your steps, sometimes creating an illusion of being protected and safe.

But this pain always runs you down, regardless of how fast you are. Run quick and unceasingly, let your heart beat like a drum, let your lungs go out of air. Run on for a long time – sooner or later God’ll cut you down.

Sooner or later God’ll cut you down.

Lyrics of a song, that is stuck in your head, they never stop, giving you a fathom ache in the temples. It somewhat resembles a march of death. Erik saw the hungry, exhausted and dying. Lights faded in their eyes, one after another, up to a point of infinity where these lights disperse in the spacious darkness of freezing nights.

When Erik looks in the mirror, he sees those people. In his own eyes. However, his light shines on and on. Cold embers still glisten in the eyes. But all he wishes for is to go to long rest. To fall asleep and never wake up. Alas – a tiniest nap is unaffordably luxurious.

His nightmares have crawled under the skin just like the learned by heart numbers that have sheltered in his brain. A reminder. He is just a number. Not even a human. What if that is for better? Humans are cruel, merciless and stupid. Humans have made him what he is now. Humans never put a slightest thought in the consequences of their actions.

These nightmares will never end. It sometimes seems to him that the mark on his skin still burns as if it has just been stamped. This fire has been burning for many years. This fire will never end.

Or until justice is done.

Charles thinks it is wrong. Erik thinks it is just. The only justice there is in the world.

“Erik?”

Lehnsherr hasn’t noticed how firmly he’s grasped his friend’s wrist. Neither he notices that he’s touching the wrist with his lips. He notices nothing. He doesn’t understand how the hatred that’s been boiling within him has turned into tenderness the moment the telepath appeared at the entrance. To kiss the wrist, to feel the pale transparent skin under his fingers, to follow the wavy trail of Charles’ veins – that is all too good, too private, too forbidden. And Erik always loved to break the rules.

“Erik, good gracious, I beg of you…”

Lehnsherr looks in the frightened blue eyes. He looks and smiles, his ravenous grim makes the telepath even more scared. Unconsciously. Desperately. His lips move along the skin again, tasting it.

“What are you asking me of, Charles?”

Erik’s voice is a merge of a violent threat and a desire. It is intimidating and repulsing. Erik’s lips are not caressing – they rape and hurt. Charles fears, but despite the instinct he pulls his friend closer, chest to chest, hugging his neck, digging fingers into his short hair.

“If that is what you truly need…”

Charles hasn’t even snatched the moment his friend pushed him away. Erik stands on his knees and embraces his friend’s legs. And the time stops. He does not exist. They both do not exist. And the room, the world and everything beyond… are not.

“I’m sorry, Charles. I never meant to… Sorry, Charles.”

Charles slowly gets down on the knees. He looks in the eyes, strokes Erik’s cheek and hugs him. Motherly, warmly and soothingly. Like no one and never. It’s satisfying. It’s magical and forbidden. Too good for someone like Erik. Too good for a monster.

Never will he deserve it.

Erik pushes him away suddenly and abruptly and leaves without goodbye.

***

The nightmares are swarming under his skin. They are buried and scraped out not only in the forearms, but also somewhere in his head, they live alongside with the dearest memories in the dead ends of the labyrinth of his mind. With Charles Xavier. With his glaringly blue eyes. With his boyish smile. With his serious broodings.

Charles, who loses at chess, Charles, who can’t stand playing poker, Charles, who adores red wine, whose shoulders are sprayed with freckles.

Charles, staying with whom is no longer bearable.

“Are you going to kill Shaw?” asks Xavier at a game of chess.

“Yes,” replies Erik unconsciously.

And almost hates himself, for at this moment the light in Charles’ eyes fades away.

***

He’s shaking. Of cold, of fear, of wrath. As if at an instant all the feelings began rushing about in his head, as if the world focused on one point. On here and now. And nowhere else. Because there is no “else”, there’s nothing beyond this room, where Charles Xavier stands before him, naked, open and accessible. Embarrassed. Innocent.

To Erik it seems a sin to deprive him of that innocence, to touch his milk-white skin, to kiss the freckles and to whisper, whisper and whisper…

_You are unbearable._

Charles bends in his arms, when Erik draws the line of the telepath’s spine with his long fingers. He bends, he throws back his head and makes a deep muffled moan. Erik closes his eyes and shuts his lips, trying to calm his exaltation.

_You are gorgeous._

Charles cocks his head to one side, smiles to Lehnsherr as if Erik’s his dearest person on Earth. Erik will never deserve it. Even in a thousand lives that won’t be enough. Enough to pay for tenderness with which Charles touches his cheek, his lips, with which he responds to the warmth of his body.

Everything about Charles will always be _too much_ , too other-worldly. And what’s happening in this bedroom is even more out-of-limit. That is something bigger than simple _satisfaction_.

Charles hugs him and closes his sleepy eyes. He smiles, as if he’s won, as if he’s defeated Erik, who has obeyed, who has been soft against his nature, who’s clutching his fists, powerless, cherishing a distant dream to rewrite that evening.

_~~I need you.~~ _

Erik wants to say that, but a treacherous “ _I shouldn’t have come_ ” slips off his lips.

Charles’ eyes become even paler.

***

“Erik, no!”

“I’m so sorry, Charles.”

_One._

The coin slides off this palm. Erik knows that everything can be stopped, he knows that Charles is calling out for him. Erik knows that what he is about to do will build a wall of ice between them.

_Two_.

The coin floats in the air as the images of unforgivable violence intermingle with the one of Charles in his head. The pain and excitement, the darkness and his eyes’ sky light. And again - the pain that prevails it all. His mother’s face.

_Three_.

Erik no longer watches. He only hears the blood-stained coin fall on the floor.

***

He looks in Charles’ eyes. They are filled with tears. He realizes that his nightmares will never end.

_You can run for a long time._

_Sooner or later God’ll cut you down._

_Sooner or later._

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing - this is a translation from Russian of https://ficbook.net/readfic/3783519 by Milady de La Fer.


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